


blending into dull tableaux

by loki (lokigurl)



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-25
Updated: 2004-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokigurl/pseuds/loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was no secret that their secret was filled with spitfire fury and insults.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blending into dull tableaux

It was no secret that their secret was filled with spitfire fury and insults hurled across the room that would only pick up speed as they bounced from wall to wall before they smacked you across the face. Maria and Michael could fight like it was an Olympic sport, and very often they growled back and forth like they were kicking it in the last lap to force past the Germans and nail the gold. To taste sweet victory standing on that pedestal, saying to the world, _see, this -- THIS -- is how it's done_.

A line like "I can't see through your fat fucking head" would mean that in six hours the splintered wooden headboard would take its last breath as it smashed against the wall and Maria'd be waking the neighbors with her screams. Twice. Three times. Well, at least until Michael covered her mouth.

And two days later Maria would push Michael over and over, stabbing at each of his buttons until he clenched his fists, letting loose a low snarl as he stormed past her to get away. She'd follow a few minutes later, giving him just enough time to catch his breath before he slammed her against the brick, pulling the neckline of her dress just low enough to sink his teeth into the exposed skin. Her hands reached for his zipper, for him and he’d bite harder, panting as her groans drowned him out.

They were happy this way, truly happy -- they held no lofty ideals of what romance was supposed to be like. They just did what came natural, and what came natural was incessant bickering and near-incessant sex. It was a constant state of foreplay, their bodies riled up with ire and so much energy that each thought they just might explode. And they did. Together.

Until, that is, the sex started to linger closer to the cessant border while the poisoned barbs simply dried out. They don't really have many reasons to fight anymore -- it's not like everything is perfect just that they're too busy with dealing with bigger things (bigger than them things) -- that they no longer have time for petty quarrels. Instead of marathon power matches, their disagreements are simply idle frustrations easily shrugged off or ignored.

Maria isn't quite sure when that happened, although it felt less like a crash landing and more like that slow ride when your car is about to run out of gas. When you can just about feel the wheels making their final turns as they roll ever so slowly each time and quietly stop.

Michael still tells her he loves her, and she echoes the sentiment, each night before bed. But the distance between them grows by centimeters and now he can't clearly remember the exact scent of that tiny spot beneath Maria's left earlobe. She still remembers how he tastes, but that, too, is fading.


End file.
